


Love Is A Ten Letter Word [Vol. 2]

by dreamofmetonight



Series: Love Is A Ten Letter Word [2]
Category: Panic At The Disco, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, Blowjobs, Brendon Urie - Freeform, Car Sex, Clothes, Crying, Death, Don't Enter If You Have No Tissues, Drugs, Dry Humping, Emo Elmo, Emotional, Falling In Love, Gabe Saporta - Freeform, Gay, Guilt, Guyliner, Heartbreak, Jon Walker - Freeform, Las Vegas, Lots of Crying, Love, M/M, Music, P!ATD, Panic at the Disco - Freeform, Panic! at the Disco - Freeform, Parties, Rosevest, Ryan Ross - Freeform, Spencer Smith - Freeform, Tissues will be needed, Unacceptance, Weed, William Beckett - Freeform, fashion - Freeform, handjobs, patd - Freeform, patrick stump - Freeform, pete wentz - Freeform, smoothie hut, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:04:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamofmetonight/pseuds/dreamofmetonight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My name is Ryan Ross, I work at Smoothie Hut, I swear that I love Brendon Urie; not Jon Walker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Toys

**Author's Note:**

> READ VOLUME 1 FIRST:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1142168/chapters/2311119

 

[Love Is A Ten Letter Word Volume 1 [Read This First So You Aren't Completely Confused]](1142168/chapters/2311119)

  **Chapter 1: Toys**

* * *

                “I'm serious, Brendon. If you had to pick between Blink182, and Green Day, who would it be,” I ask him as I stroke his dark brown hair. We're currently curled around each other on my small twin sized bed, with Brendon's head on my chest, and my legs tangled up in his.

                “Don't make me choose, Ry,” Brendon whines, “It's like picking between you and William, you are both so adorable, and have so many attractive factors,” he adds with a snicker.

                I look down at him, and then catch his eye. “We both know that you couldn't handle William, he's too high maintenance. He would drive you crazy, in more ways than one. After we met that first day, he was disappointed that I hadn't had sex with you,” I comment softly, and continue stroking his hair. It's not that I don't want to, because who wouldn't? But it's way too soon. The first few days after Jon died, I was having one night stands almost every night. It was always really awkward for me, but maybe it was just me. 

                “Oh,” he comments, and then leans his head up to peck at my lips. A soft moan escapes my lips, and I feel so betrayed; stupid hormones. “You're incredibly sexy, Ryan,” he whispers softly into my lips, and I instantly shiver. It's like he's purposely teasing me, and I hate it, but fucking love it at the same time. He pulls away slowly, biting and pulling my lower lip out with this teeth, before letting go, leaving me in mid-moan.

                “Fuck, you're really good at being a tease,” I quickly blurt out, my heart racing, as my jeans start to get tighter. I’m really glad that I changed my pants before we started to cuddle. I don’t think Brendon would want to smell like puke for the rest of the day. 

                “And your moans are really hot,” he replies back, with a cheeky smile, then rests his head back on my chest. I feel my Adam’s apple bob and up down, and gulp. If I don’t calm myself down right now I will attack him just like I did in the car. I rack my brain for something to d—I’ll play with his hair. Yeah, that will calm me down.               

                I quickly go back to stroking his soft hair, letting it fall through my fingers, my heart slowing down, as I instantly relax. My breathing quickly syncs with Brendon’s as I feel my eyelids start to get heavy. I could easily fall asleep right now. It seems like even my cock has fallen asleep, and that’s a relief.

                “What happened to you today, Ry,” he suddenly asks carefully, his eyes flickering up to mine, “Me and William were terrified; we thought you were dead” Way to wake me up, Brendon. I was just about to nod off. 

                “A lot happened today, Brendon... I don't really know if I'm ready to talk about everything. There's certain things that I haven't even told William yet,” I sigh softly taking a pause. “But, I'll tell you whatever I can tell, because you're Brendon,” my voice raspy, I quickly let my hands fall from his hair, and lace them with his fingers instead.

                “If you can’t tell me, that’s completely fine, Ryan, I don’t expect anything else,” he responds softly, and then places a soft kiss on my chest. 

                I quickly shake my head no, “I want to tell you, but the first thing you should know about me is that when I was in my middle school years I was very religious. I remember praying every single day, for anything at all. Whether it be a brand new toy truck – I was very manly I assure you – or to send help to everyone homeless; I prayed everyday” I squeeze Brendon's hand softly, and move slightly to prevent myself from falling off the bed onto the floor. “I think I was about 10 when I realized that I wasn't,” I take a pause to get my wording right, “attracted to females in the sense that I should be. It was really young, but I remember it was when dances were coming up, and guys were asking girls, and I just didn’t want to ask, and didn’t feel like there was a need to. It was also around that time that my Dad's brother was reported as being Missing In Action over in Afghanistan. To this day we still haven't received his body,” I say emotionless. If I show emotion, they win. I feel Brendon's hand squeeze mine and he smiles that big cheeky grin I like so much.

                I begin again taking in a big breath, “My Dad was always a pretty good guy. He would take me fishing, would play sports with me – although I was never really all that good – and would sneak me snacks before dinner—or what we called dinner—would be ready. My mother is—sorry was—the worst cook ever. If you ever don’t know the phone number for Pizza Hut, just ask me and I’ll be able to tell you by memory” 

                “What’s the phone number for Dominos,” Brendon quickly blurts out, and I can’t help but laugh. I was expecting that.         

                “702-325-1092,” I repeat, my voice calm, “you’re lucky that my Mom liked Dominos and my Dad liked Pizza Hut”                           

                “Do you like Pizza Hut or Dominos?”

                I shrug softly, “I’m okay with either”               

                “How am I supposed to know where to buy pizza now in case you sleepover,” Brendon lifts his head up from my chest, and wiggles his eyebrows.

                “You complete horn dog,” I smile widely, and then look up at the ceiling, then sigh. 

                “Sorry for interrupting,” Brendon says softly, and then rests his head back on my chest. I shake my head softly.

                “’S fine, Brendon; you’re actually making this easier for me. You’re reminding me that I’m okay, and things will be okay,” I gnaw at my lower lip,  “I don't know if he knew that I was confused about who I was, or if it was the shock of losing his brother, but he began to drink, socially at first. A beer during Fourth of July, another beer during Superbowl. Any kind of drinking wasn’t allowed in our religion, so it was a shock for me. Like, here I am, a 10 year old, wondering why my father is drinking, when it was against what I had been taught. I remember that I asked my mother why 'Daddy,' I flinch at the Daddy word, haven't used it for years, “was drinking and why was he if it was against Joseph Smith’s word. She had told me, that it was okay because it didn’t happen all of the time. And that God would forgive him, because of what happened to his brother. He knew that he was going through a hard time.  And isn’t God supposed to forgive us for all of our sins,” my voice low, my stomach growling. I forgot that I was making a sandwich when my mother called me and I went into a tail spin. 

                “William should be on his way back if you want to eat, and then finish the story,” Brendon asks me carefully, as if I’m going to break into a million pieces. To be honest, I might.

                “I really want you to know what happened,” I grumble out, and then kiss the top of his head. “I want you to know everything about me, what my favorite color is, if I like summer or winter, or if I can’t stand smoothies. And I want to know everything about you, what your parents are like—“ 

                “You haven’t eaten yet, everyone knows that you need to eat three meals a day, or your body will stop working,” Brendon quickly cuts me off, then quickly unlaces our hands, and then quickly springs up from the bed, standing on the floor for a minute near the bed to get his bearings straight.

                I whine, “Come back to bed, you’re warm,” I add, pouting.               

                “I’m hungry, you should be too”

                I once again whine, and then sit up in bed, my brown hair probably a mess like always. “Alright, well, if you won’t come back voluntarily, I’ll make you come back,” I add softly, and then pull him on top of me by the hand. “I got you now, and I’m not letting you go,” I whisper into his ear, wrapping my arms around his waist.

                Brendon smirks (Oh my god, is that hot) and moves his lips to my ear and whispers, “I highly doubt that you can hold onto me for long, and I can prove it” If I wasn’t lying down right now, I think my legs would have given out on me by now. 

                “Oh yeah? Prove it then, tough guy,” I respond back, confident, and wrap my arms around his waist tighter, then look up at the white cracky ceiling. I intend on winning this, no matter wh—Holy fucking shit, that feels good. I quickly dart my eyes down at Brendon to see him biting my neck, and then quickly licking it. My back quickly arches, my arms becoming looser around his waist. “Not…. Fair,” I say breathlessly, trying to suppress any moans.

                “You think that’s not fair? I haven’t even gotten started yet,” his voice husky as he whispers into my neck. Before I know it, his lips are on top of mine, his tongue exploring every cavity in my mouth. I don’t bother fighting for dominance because I know that he’ll win. Compared to him, I’m just a wimp who finds guys hot. He’s a sex god who could look sexy flossing, or shitting on the toilet. I slowly feel my arms starting to lose its hold around Brendon’s waist, and that’s when I know that I’ve lost the dare. I smile into the kiss, and let the hold on Brendon’s waist go, then flip us over, so that I’m on top, straddling him.

                “I could always do this too, funny how it seems to keep your ADD in check,” I tell him, trying to be as sexy as I can. I’m about as sexy as a fish. 

                “Are you trying to tease me, Smoothie Boy,” he asks me, arching his eyebrow, his eyes hooded.

                “Is it working,” I ask him, then slowly remove my black shirt, resisting the urge to cover myself up from Brendon. I remember that whenever me and Jon had sex, I always wanted it be dark, so that he couldn’t see how I really looked. 

                Brendon nods slowly, with a grin, “I was right about you being sexy before, so completely right,” he comments, and then runs his hand down my chest and stomach, causing my hair to stand straight up. I lean my head back, as I let out another moan. “It’s a shame that William will be back soon,” he says darkly, “I don’t really feel like having a quickie with you, but…,” he trails off, and within a few seconds he’s flipped me back over onto the bed, him straddling me, as he unbuttons my jeans.

                I let my head fall back onto the pillows, looking up at the ceiling, and let my thoughts consume me as I try to enjoy the ride. This was actually going to happen. We were going to have sex, and I could feel it in every inch of my body, from my growing erection, to my dilated eyes; I knew it. I groan, when I feel Brendon slowly pull my pants down, so that I’m only in my brightly colored pink boxers. 

                “Pink boxers?” I hear Brendon ask with a chuckle as he pulls down my boxers

                “Cancer awareness month a few months back at the store, Pete wanted us to bu—,” I moan out, when I feel Brendon’s wet mouth on me, already sucking away on my head greedingly. I thread my hands into his hair, not even sure if this is actually happening. The feeling in my stomach and gruttal groans that I'm making assures me that this is happening.  Brendon Boyd Urie is—“Brendon!” my voice screams out, when he takes me fully into his mouth, sucking away happily. Shivers shoot down my body as my toes start to curl an—“Fucking shit,” I pant, as he licks my underside eagerly, feeling myself already start to come undone. I shouldn't be ready to explode this early. He wraps his long fingers around my base—my back once again arches off the bed. I'm violently pulled back down by Brendon's other hand's nails in my side, "Do that a-again," my voice hoarse. He digs his nails into my upper thigh, "A-ready,” my voice shaky, that unfamiliar bubbling sensation rising up from my stomach to my throat. It's so disjointed and I'm not sure what's really going on, but it feels _amazing._

               I look down at him and our eyes connect – his cheeks hollowed out, all hot, and sweaty, looking like the real life version of a porn star. God—I’m almost there, _so_ close, any second. I push him down onto my cock, and wrap my legs around his neck, just wanting him a little bit closer—just a _little_ bit more. Just—I suddenly feel myself let go without warning, my back arching off the bed for the final time, while screaming out his name. I quickly blink through the white, willing myself to calm my breathing and heart race. I dart my eyes down at Brendon, who is milking me until I’m completely empty. I don’t know how he could get any hotter at this point. But I’m wrong. He pulls away with a small pop, and licks around his mouth for any missed spots of my come. If I wasn’t completely motionless and limp against my bed I would have tried to go for an encore. My eyes drift to his crotch and—he’ll need my help. It certainly won't be my best blowjob or handjob, but at least it'll help him out.

  
                 “You need me to,” I breathlessly say, not even sure how I’m talking, or even thinking at this point. He has sweat dripping from his forehead onto _those_ lips that I could kiss for eons, and his hair looks like he just rolled out of bed. He looks beautifully messy. I attempt to sit up, but Brendon only pushes me back down onto the bed.

             Brendon shakes his head, then smiles, “That was just for you, Ry—Could see how much that story was hurting you. Thought I could cheer you up, and I’m pretty sure I did,” he finishes with a chuckle, then stretches his head up to me, to give me a small and gentle kiss. I don’t even care about the fact that I’m tasting myself (I really don’t taste that good at all—come tastes horrible no matter who you end up being with), or that William may have come in at any second (I’ve walked on in him jerking off too many times to remember so he’ll have to deal with it), I only care about Brendon. Brendon with the lips, and the eyes, and the hands, and the name that feels like velvet rolling off my tongue. I only care about _him_ and his arms that feel like _home._

             “I’m going to go call William, I’ll be back for the end of that story later, and I’ll tell my own,” he whispers softly, then slowly gets up from the bed with grace. I want him to stay in bed with me for the rest of my life. I’ll work from bed, and he can work from bed too. We’ll just stay together forever, him and his perfect body, and eyes—oh my god his lips. His lips are my weakness. I think he knows it too.

             I try to open my mouth to convince him to stay, but he kisses it closed, “No speaking, only sleep. I’ll be back with food in a little while, and then we can talk about whatever you want,” he adds, then caresses my face with his spindly and calloused fingers. “See you soon, Smoothie Boy,” he says with a wink, and then quickly leaves the room. Is Smoothie Boy really his nickname for me? I can’t decide if I like it or not. I’ve had some awful nicknames so I guess it’s not the worse. And Brendon gave me it to me, so I can’t really _not_ like it.

             How is it that we met 3 days ago, and we have already had sex? That’s normal, right? Completely normal, and utterly normal. He could be a serial killer, but it’s completely normal. William likes him, so it’s fine. And Brendon said that we would talk about each other over lunch, and really get to know each other. It’s completely normal that I want to bottle up his minty breathe—his kisses I want to harness and be able to use whenever I don’t feel loved, and his  It’s completely normal that I feel like I can’t breathe when I’m not around him. Completely normal. 

             I slowly pull my boxers up, still in the post orgasm haze, and pull the covers over top of me. It’s a too warm kind of day that I’m used to everyday. William has sometimes commented that I need to start wearing shorts—I’ve never been that fond of my legs. Even if the weather here suffocates you to the point where you feel like you’re drowning I won’t wear anything but jeans. Sometimes I don’t even like to walk around in my boxers in my _own_ apartment. I’m _that_ self-conscious. I yawn, my eyelids getting increasingly heavy. I’ve wanted to move from Nevada for a while.

             I’m sure it’s not a lot easier in other states like California, but at least you have beaches. In Las Vegas you only get desert after desert. I’m tired of deserts and stupid fucking cacti. Do you know that catci don't give you as much water as you think they do? I’d much rather be near the beach, and the sand. I never liked swimming but being near a beach would probably be different. Maybe one day I’ll actually get to see one. If I ever get enough money to get out of this shit town. I’ve never left Nevada except that one time with Jon, but we didn’t go to any beaches. When we went it was too crowded and we didn’t bring sunscreen—I burn way too easily. We were too high to walk straight anyways. We just sat on the boardwalk and laughed at the seagulls. Me and Brendon should do that eventually.

             I roll over on my side, facing my bare closet, and my beat up black First Act electric guitar. Music was always a big thing for me until Jon left and I broke the guitar. Well, I didn’t _break_ the guitar more like played the strings so hard they fell apart and my fingers bleed. I’ve kept the guitar as a reminder more than anything. Another yawn passes through my thin lips, as my eyes are slowly closing.

            Whenver I get up enough money saved up I’ll get a Gibson or a Fender, maybe even invest in an amp. Or at least something that isn't fucking First Act. I don't need it—more of a want—but being able to play music for the rest of my life has always been a huge dream of mine. That and having my own custom guitar made. People will be able to go out and buy it. I’ll walk through the streets of whatever state I’m in, and see people carrying and playing my guitar. It’s just a dream though, and dreams are meant for dreams. Besides, I’ve already got Brendon, and he’s all I could ask for and more. I quickly fall asleep with a smile on my face, and dreams full of him.

 

 

 

 


	2. Salad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I slowly open my eyes, groaning immediately at the sudden bright light that’s streaming through my small and grimy windows. “Fuck off light,” I mumble, and pull the pillow over top of my head. I just want to go back to sleep, but as my stomach growls, I know that I won’t be able to. I didn’t know that I was this hungry when fell asleep. But then again, I wasn’t really thinking before I went to sleep. My thoughts were too jumbled after Brendon happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a lot shorter than the last chapter but the next chapter is really long and you'll learn more about Jon!  
> And probably cry so I thought you needed some happiness before I crush your soul.

 

** Chapter 2: Salad **

* * *

           I slowly open my eyes, groaning immediately at the sudden bright light that’s streaming through my small and grimy windows. “Fuck off light,” I mumble, and pull the pillow over top of my head. I just want to go back to sleep, but as my stomach growls, I know that I won’t be able to. I didn’t know that I was this hungry when fell asleep. But then again, I wasn’t really thinking before I went to sleep. My thoughts were too jumbled after Brendon _happened_.

          I sigh, and then throw my pillow onto the ground, pulling myself up onto my elbows, then placing my feet onto the carpeted red fluffy carpet. I let my toes wriggle around on the carpet, before pushing down, and standing up, almost falling flat on my ass from jelly legs. “God damn it,” I mutter under my breath, as I brace myself up against the wall. I shouldn’t be this worn out after sex. Then again, I haven’t had sex in almost 2 years, so I shouldn’t be that surprised. I struggle my way out of my bedroom, grumbling as I go.

          “Well, look who has finally risen from the grave at—,” William looks at his cell phone, “5pm at night with no shirt on,” he comments, as he arches his eyebrow up. I need to talk to him about the Eurie. But right now I just need to eat and sleep some more. Sleep is good. I never get sleep.

          “Come on, Will, it’s hot during the summer, he probably took it off while he was asleep,” Brendon adds with a wink, from the couch, then starts channel surfing. I instantly blush, feeling it creep up my neck, and down my body. He didn’t tell William what happened—I’m safe from embarrassment.

          “Yeah, I didn’t get to sleep quickly, from such a tiring day, so I thought cooling myself down might help,” my voice feeling dry. “Food in the kitchen,” I ask them both on the couch. They both nod with mild amusement, absorbed in whatever shit is on the TV.

          I roll my eyes, and then walk past them into the kitchen. My apartment is well – the floor plan – never mind I can’t even explain what it looks like when I’m still this groggy. Use your imagination. I pass by the stained old cabinets, and open the fridge, bracing myself for the rotten smell, but it never comes. Instead the inside of the fridge is wiped clean, and new food has been put in its place. What the he—William and Brendon. They must have cleaned out my fridge and put new food in. How long was I out for? It couldn’t have more than a couple hours—5 at the most.

          And how could they afford this? William works online as a guitar and voice coach, and doesn’t get much. Did Brendon buy this for me? I don’t know what kind of job he has or if he doesn’t even have a job. Is it possible that I think I’m falling even harder for this guy?

          “You don’t worry about paying me back,” a voice that I immediately recognize as Brendon, “Having you in my arms is more than enough,” I hear him say with a grin. I close the fridge, and then walk over to him, wrapping my arms around his neck, looking down at him, smiling. “You do know that you’re still in those sexy pink boxers,” he whispers into my ear, “How about you eat your salad and then we take them off again” I groan softly, already becoming hard. I really should have had sex before this. But it probably wouldn’t have been as good as it is with Brendon. He’s like the inspiration for the kamasutra or something because those lips can make my legs give out from under me.

          “Yo, Romeo, stop trying to get Juliet into bed, and let her eat,” William shouts from the living room over the noise of the television. Didn’t Romeo and Juliet end in double suicide?

          “I’m not Juliet!,” I yell back to him, then unwrap my arms from Brendon’s waist, and turn around to face the counter, quickly finding the salad in a black container. I pick up the black container, and hold it in my hands, then turn around to face Brendon again. “Thought you wanted to take it slow, Mr. Urie,” I tease, looking down at my salad, then quickly glance up at him, with a half-smile.

          “Smoothie Boy, you know that I can’t keep my hands off you, no matter how hard I try to,” his voice dark, and brooding, “How about you take your salad back to the bedroom, and we can talk over it,” he whispers into my ear, then suddenly biting down on my ear, earning a load moan of approval from my lips.

          “If you’re going to have sex in the kitchen, don’t expect me to clean up the kitchen again! And at least warn me so that I can leave you two sex machines alone. I don’t really want to hear my two friends fucking,” William yells out to the kitchen, the volume of the television no longer overpowering his voice. He must have turned it off, or turned it down. I’ve walked in on William with another guy but this is completely different. I’ve always known him being a sexual guy but he’s never looked at me in that way. And he’s always told me what happens with the guys he’s been with. This is just uncomfortable to be getting hard in my own kitchen while my best friend is in the next room.

          “Will, its fine we’re not—Brendon,” I moan out loudly letting my head fall back, feeling his knee rub up against my already too hard cock. Oh my god. This is not fair at all. It’s like every part of him is like magic and designed to make me horny and completely undone.

          “Alright, Brendon, at least wait till I leave to completely break my friend in half,” I hear William comment, “Call me back when you’re done getting boned, Ryan! Have fun!” I try to respond, but all that comes out is strangled moans, as Brendon slowly and painstakingly palms at me. My hips instantly jerk up into his hand the salad quickly falling onto the ground with a small thud. Fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck.

          If he’s not careful, I’ll come right here, right now, in the kitchen. I hear the front door slam closed, and I instantly gasp, feeling Brendon’s hand already in my boxers, jerking me off, running his thumb along my slit. I splay my hands out on the counter, my legs starting to feel like jelly already. I don’t care that I’m probably going to end up coming on my kitchen floor and I’ll need to clean it late—

          “Brendon—Fuck—Shit,” my voice stumbling, trying desperately to get some coherent words out. I’m normally pretty good with words but not when my heart feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest and I feel like I’m running a marathon. Or when—he starts to pump me that sensation rising quickly from my curled toes to my clenched eyes.

          “Think of it as a reward for getting up, and motivation to tell me the rest of that story,” he responds, his voice husky, using his other freehand to pinch at my nipples, earning another loud moan. “You have no idea how hot you look right now, all undone, so,” he pauses for a second, and then bites onto my nipple, “Sensitive,” he finishes with a smirk. He hungrily kisses my neck. How he manages to still do this and still have his hand on my cock is amazing. I throw my head back to allow him better access. He nibbles on my Adam’s apple, a porn star like groan escaping my mouth. I sound like a cat in heat.

          “I’mma--,” I suddenly come into his hand, my back arching as ripples of pleasure surge through my entire body, with a loud scream of nonsense mixed with his name. My legs underneath me buckle, as I fall into him, my nails digging into his back, trying to hold onto the orgasm. “Just—,” I take a deep breathe, “Give me a few seconds, and I’ll do you,” I add, and breathe in deeply, my eyes still closed sweat dripping from my forehead and back. He just made me come twice in a matter of hours. I’m either really backed up or his hands and lips are magic.

          “I can wait till you eat your salad, and till you finish your story,” he says softly, and then I feel him kiss the top of my head. “Shall I carry my Juliet to the bedroom?” he snickers at me.

          “Fuck off, Urie”

          “That’s not a nice way to treat the boy who just made you come in your kitchen, pressed up against the counter,” he says, with a husky voice, giving my cock a nice pull. I hiss at him.

          “I don’t think I can last another one until I eat something,” I move his come covered hand away from my cock, and tuck me back into my boxers, reaching down to get the container of salad which is now covered in a white sticky substance.

          “Well…. That’s unfortunate”

          “I should have a bowl around here somewhere,” I mutter to myself, turning around to face the counter, putting the container down, and then reaching up into a cabinet to find a bowl. I feel Brendon’s arms snake around my waist, and his face flush up against my back. “Mmmm—you’re making it extremely hard for me to concentrate, Bren,” I say to him, grinning widely. Yeah, it might just be that he’s magic.

          “Good, you need a distraction from today,” he whispers into my neck, kissing the nape of my neck. I eventually find a bowl behind a strainer, and reach up, to grab it, bringing it down onto the counter. “Now that you found a bowl, let’s go finish that story, and get you fed,” he whines into my ear.

          “I need to get a fork first, and pour the salad into the bowl, dork,” I respond back, opening up the lid of the salad, then pouring it into the bowl. I toss the lid behind my shoulder, and pull open a drawer and retrieve a plastic fork. They’re so much easier than cleaning metal forks. And I save money on dish soap. And time too. Most of my time is spent at work or being a third wheel on William’s dates. Or spending my nights at the parties that I like so much. Then I have to come home get a few hours of sleep before I get up and start my walk to Smoothie Hut. I don’t have time to do anything else.

          “You taste really good, Ry,” Brendon comments, and I raise my eyebrow.

          “What are you talking about,” I ask him, furrowing my brows, and quickly turn around to see him licking the come covered lid my come leaking from his chin. My mouth instantly goes dry and I swear that I can feel my cock spring back to life. “Bedroom, now,” I say quickly, my voice full of hunger, pulling him by the hand, my bowl and fork in the other hand. Fuck moving slow, I wanna go fast.

          “I thought you would never ask,” Brendon states, throwing the lid into the sink, and then suddenly picking me up, throwing me over his shoulder, as he runs into my bedroom his feet making large thuds on the floor. I can’t help but giggle. I could get used to this.


	3. Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those butterflies start up in my stomach again temporally making me forget about what I have to tell him. I don’t want this to ever end; being happy. I want to be happy for forever with Brendon, but I can’t for now. I have to get this off my chest. I have to be unhappy to be happy. I have to tell the full story for the first time since it happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kleenex stock will be going up after this.  
> Small trigger warning with death here.  
> You'll see what I mean.

**Chapter 3: Tower**

* * *

                “You never ate,” Brendon comments, his hands running through my hair, my eyes closed. If he’s not careful I’ll fall asleep on him. Okay, maybe I want to sleep on him. I haven’t slept with someone in 2 years, and I would love to fall asleep with Brendon. To wake up next to him, or in his arms would be perfect. He has really nice arms—muscular and tight.

                “I don’t want to move—too comfy,” I whine, moving my head into the crook of Brendon’s neck, clenching my eyes tighter. If I pretend that I’m asleep maybe he’ll stay the night. Asking him would just be pushing our relationship too far. And I don’t want to scare him off even though we just had a handjob in the kitchen, a blowjob in my bed, and a make-out session that I wish I could repeat over and over again. It’s like I’m addicted and his body is my fix.

                His body moves slightly, and I can’t help but whine.

                “Don’t leave,” I quickly blurt out.

                He smiles and reaches for the bowl of salad on the bedside table, already wilted. “Here comes the choo-choo train,” he states, picking up a piece of salad with the fork, moving the fork closer to my mouth. What the hell? I’m not a baby. I can feed myself.

                I open my eyes and glare at him, “Are you seriously feeding m—“ I’m interrupted with a piece of salad in my mouth, and I smirk, while chewing. He completely avoided what I just said, is that a good thing? Or a bad thing? Does he hate me now? Oh my god, I’m acting like an insecure teenage girl. Well, I am insecure. And my thoughts are completely disjointed.

                “After this, I want the end of the story, and I’ll be here for the rest of the night, in this bed, with you,” he says while smiling, then kissing me on the nose. I quickly swallow and open my mouth to speak, but I’m once again stuck with chewing another piece of salad. “Just eat it, Ryan. I know you’re probably starving. You haven’t eaten all day” He sounds concerned, and then runs his eyes over my bare chest. I want to cover up almost immediately. He hates what he sees.

                I quickly swallow the lettuce, “If you’ll be here with me all night, I’ll eat anything you want,” I respond with a cheeky smile. I knew that he would find the innuendo in that. He’s going to stay? The night? You mean I won’t have to wake up alone this morning?

                “I might take you up on that offer later, after you finish eating, and telling me the story, and the ice crea—“

                “I don’t have ice cream,” I blurt out, glancing up at him. I need to think before I speak.

                “You should be glad that you have me then,” he replies with another smile, shoveling a huge piece of lettuce into my mouth. “I’ll teach you all of the finer things in life, Ryan Ross, including chocolate ice cream, with chocolate syrup, and jimmies, and whipped cream, and cher—“ I quickly interrupt him with a peck, earning a moan from his lips.

                “I finally earned a moan from you! I feel like I should win an award; First Guy To Make Brendon Urie Moan,” I place my hands along his sides, and slide them up and down until I gain another moan from Brendon. I found his weak spot and I’m going to exploit it.

                “Not fair, Smoothie Boy,” he groans out his body starting to jerk upwards.

                “It’s so totally fair,” I whisper into his ear, and then bite softly on his lower lobe, his body shaking, letting out a beautiful moan that I wish I could hear for the rest of my life.

                “If you’re not careful I’ll force this salad down your throat so fast and pin you against the wall so fast that your head will spin,” he spills out quickly before letting out an earthshattering moan, his long fingers balled up in the bed sheets.

                I can’t help but smirk, but try my luck again, knowing how completely gone he already is. I blow hot air into his ear softly, and before I know, I’m flipped over on my back, with Brendon grinding on top of me. My heart is caught in my throat, and I instantly groan from the friction, without even realizing what is _really_ happening.

                “Fucking—Shit—God Damn—,” Brendon groans out, picking up the speed, not able to get out any fully functioning sentences. I choke out a high pitched moan, feeling myself getting close again for the 4th time today. He’s really putting me through my paces. “Wait—For—Me,” he manages to get out, his breath becoming swallow. I nod my head softly, biting down on my lip to keep myself from moaning, or any kind of release at all. He looks so hot all worked up, with his chocolate brown eyes completely focused, and his chestnut brown hair plastered to his forehead. I wish that I could take a picture of this and save it so that I never forget it.

                “I—Need,” he chokes out a strangled moan, and grabs my ahold of my hand, and jams it into his pants. My eyes bulge out of my hand when I realize that I’m only an inch of clothing away from his cock, but then I realize what I have to do; I slowly start rubbing his cock, up and down as soft as possible, my fingers barely even touching him. I’ve always been more of a teaser than anything. This might be a good thing right now.

                “Can’t—last,” my voice strangled, and raged. I don’t know how I’m holding back at this point, but I know that he wants me to wait, and I will for as long as I can. But I need to make him come too; and fast. I run my pointer finger along the outline of his cock, and then suddenly pick up the pace, feverishly trying to get him off. I was never good at sex. I’m still not. 

                “Soo—Ryan,” he moans out loudly, his back arching and his toes curling, his fingernails dug into my skin, holding onto for dear life. I feel him come hard and long against the inch of clothing between my hand and his cock. I finally let go release, screaming out his name loudly, the sensation of pure pleasure rocketing up and down my body, white light flashing before my eyes.

                I breathe through the post orgasm, my arms clutched around a limp Brendon, whose head is placed on my chest. “I think I deserve an I Made Brendon Come award instead,” I finally comment after a few minutes of silence. He only sticks up his middle finger at me, obviously too tired to speak. I can’t help but chuckle at him. I should be tired too—I had sex 4 times today—but I’m not. I’m more energized now. Maybe I just want to be awake every minute I’m awake with Brendon. I want to be able to watch him as he sleeps and remember every detail in case something happens. I want to remember how happy I am right here in this moment.

                My stomach growls and I furrow my brow, wondering where the salad went. I probably won’t be eating it as long as I’m in the same room with him, so I might as well throw it away. “Hey, Brendon, where did the salad go,” I ask him softly, not expecting an answer.

                “Floor,” his speech slurred. I kiss the top of his head, look at the floor, and the rest of the salad is all over the red fluffy carpet. I can’t help but chuckle. Yeah, that’s not definitely not getting eaten tonight. These floors haven’t been cleaned since I first got it. Not enough time.

                “Brendon, I have to go change my boxers, I’m all sticky, and stinky”

                “So am I and you don’t hear me complaining,” his voice already teetering on sleep.

                “Didn’t you want to teach me how good chocolate ice cream is, and learn the rest of the story,” I ask him curiously, hoping to remind him. I don’t want to be lying here with Brendon and smell like come and sweat. It’s not exactly my best scent. Not as bad piss and puke but it’s pretty up there.

                “I’ll have the ice cream later—you’re warm. Just tell me the story now, I’ll stay awake,” he replies with a giant yawn, which shakes my bare pale chest.

                “Alright, but understand, it’s kind of a long story, and I don’t—“, I pause,"think I can repeat it again. I haven’t told anyone the full story yet,” I stroke his hair, and look up at the ceiling once again. I’m starting to think this is a coping mechanism to avoid his eyes and his reaction.

                “I’ll stay awake, Smoothie Boy,” his voice low. I feel him smile against my bare skin, and I can’t help but smile as well.

                “Where we were before all of the sex…,” I pause once again to rack my brain, “Right, my Dad… I had believed my Mom, still kind of believe God will forgive him, but let’s get into religion on another day—my brain is too mushy for that right now – anyways I turned 11 soon after. It was a big deal, we had a huge party at my house,” I flinch, “Sorry—my parent’s house, not my own house. Not anymore at least. We had family come over, and I was always an awkward kid, so my Mom invited some parents from our Church. She told them to bring along their kids. She knew that I was transitioning from elementary to middle school, and that I would need a friend. So, during my birthday party, my father started drinking again–a few beers at first—and the whole family was horrified. A Mormon drinking, how taboo,” I gasp sarcastically, and my chest rattles from Brendon’s soft chuckle. “But it started to get worse, until it get to the point where he got into a fist fight with the clown. The end result was my Dad winning with the final–and quite hilarious now that I look back on it—move of sticking the balloon air pump up the clown’s ass”

                “I guess his asshole isn’t like a clown car,” Brendon guesses, with a giggle. I slap his head playfully, and then bite my lip, trying to hold in the laughter. I shouldn’t be laughing about my father getting drunk—to the point where were black-balled in the clown hiring business—at my 11th birthday party. “Come on, it’s okay to laugh, Ry. Don’t make me get dressed and test my theory with another clown. I don’t think the clown council will like that,” he murmurs, and that’s when I completely lose it, my stomach jumping up and down with laughter, for the first in a while. Emo Elmo was one thing, but this was _Brendon_. Brendon is different and could make me laugh with just a look. “Alright, so what happened, was his ass as red as his red nose,” he asks, obviously trying to get me to laugh harder.

                “Stop making me laugh, I’m going to pee myself,” I say through tears of laughter.

                “But I like your laugh; William told me that you don’t laugh enough, so I’m taking this chance to hear it,” he responds back, placing a small kiss on my chest.

                “Trust me, there’s plenty of time for you to make me pee with laughter, but I don’t want come and pee to mix in my boxers,” I comment back, starting to rub his back gently.

                “You could always just take your boxers off, if you don’t want to feel sticky,” he replies, and then picks up his head, winking at me.

                “God, you are such a horn-dog, how did I end up with such a sex obsessed guy”

                “What you mean to say, is ‘Oh Brendon, what did I ever do to be blessed with you. You are the only guy who could make me come 4 times in one day, Oh, oh, oh, Brendon!,” he leans his head back, intimating what I hope is not my orgasm face. I resist the urge to grab onto that perfect neck with my teeth, and make him practice his _own_ orgasm face.

                “Well… You do know that there was other guys before you,” I say softly, and look down at my hands. “Like… William knows about hi—them, he knows about them,” I quickly correct myself. Brendon would probably leave if he found out that I’ve slept with him and Jon. He probably thinks that I’m experienced. The one night stands don’t count to me. I was too high and drunk to even remember their names, or faces. Plus I’m not even sure if we had sex for sure.  

                “There’s one thing that William doesn’t know about, that I do,” he says while looking into my eyes.

                “Oh yeah?” I ask him

                “Your orgasm face,” he blurts out, and then again imitates what I look like when I climax. I sigh, and then fold my arms over his back.

                “Your ADD is acting up, do I need to limit your sugar intake?” I ask him, sounding exactly like my mother did. I shudder involuntarily. Brendon whimpers, and then gets comfortable again on top of me, with his head in the same position. “Anywaysssss,” I add, stretching out the word, “After 911 was called, and the ambulance was called,” I hear Brendon snort, “Not funny, I’m not sure if he could ever normally poop again,” I comment, cracking a smile knowing for sure that Brendon probably liked the joke. I look back up at the ceiling, running my hands through his hair. “Most of the parents left with their kids, they didn’t want to our family to be a ‘bad influence’,” I say, with air quotes.

                “If you just air quoted in the air then you are cornier than if Stars Wars fan and a Star Trek fan made a baby and that baby grew up to love Doctor Who”

                “Urie, I can give that ice cream to that the homeless if needed,” I look down at him, and hear him whimper. I keep looking down at Brendon when I begin next relishing in the memories, “But, there was one mother and her son who didn’t leave. I learned a little bit later that that family was going through some problems of their own, and they didn’t feel right leaving us alone after what happened. My father was carted away to the drunk tank to get sobered up, and my mother and the boy’s mother were talking in the dining room, so they had sent us upstairs to my room,” I can’t help but smile, feeling nostalgia take me over. “His name was Jon, and he was my age. At this point I had no friends. But somehow we became unlikely friends. I think we bonded over our mutual interest for Pokemon.”

                I hear Brendon chuckling softly. “Look, Pokemon was the shit back then, and it distracted us from what was really was going,” I sigh softly and then look back up at the ceiling, “Jon’s mother and father were separated; his mother in Las Vegas, living with Jon, and his father living in New York City. Jon’s father cheated on his mother with a stripper—whole big soap opera thing. My mother and father were mostly separated, not physically at least, but mentally. The alcohol separated them, so my Mom and his mother got along well,” I sigh softly, and then take another breath, “Me and Jon continued to be friends for the rest of that summer. Luckily, when we got to middle school we got to meet up, and dodge the 8th graders, and figure everything out together. I had a _friend_ —No I had a best friend. We got placed in the same classes because of our last names. He would come over my house afterschool, and we would struggle to figure out why the hell Winnie Foster would decide to just die instead of being immortal. Or why Jesse had to go that art exhibit instead of going to Terabithia with Leslie and saving her from dying in the river,” I start to let myself swim away with the memories. I could swear that they happened just yesterday. Jon and his already growing beard at age 12—I always teased him about it. He told me that it would long beards would be in some day and that it got him the ladies. It got me at least.

                “Being immortal is overrated,” Brendon teased, “Go ahead, I’m listening,” he lifts his head up, and then kisses my cheek softly. “If you don’t feel like you can finish the story, you can stop. I don’t want to push you” I shake my head no. I need to tell him. It will help me feel less weird about how fast we are going. I want him to know something about my past, and one story is my past. That’s all there is. One long and heart wrenching story. “Just know, that I’m here,” he smiles softly, and then rests his head back on my chest, grabbing my hand in the process. Those butterflies start up in my stomach again temporally making me forget about what I have to tell him. I don’t want this to ever end; being happy. I want to be happy for forever with Brendon, but I can’t for now. I have to get this off my chest. I have to be unhappy to be happy. I have to tell the full story for the first time since it happened.

                “Everything was completely fine until 9/11,” I suck in a deep breathe, and then quickly let it go. I wish that I could erase it if there was a way so that I didn’t have to utter these words out. Maybe get a machine that I could just transfer the memories to Brendon and he would just know. I wish it existed but it doesn’t. “I had stayed home from school, I was sick—I had a black eye and I couldn’t let the school see--,” I quickly say feeling confident and brave. They couldn’t touch me here, while was I was completely safe and warm with Brendon. He squeezes my hand tightly, running his thumb over mine reminding me that I’m here with him and not in the past when things were so much different.

                I nod softy, and then breathe out. I’m ready. “I remember getting a phone call around 8am from Jon, and he was frantic about his Dad, and the towers, and that he hadn’t heard from his Dad that morning,” I shut my eyes, and clench them, seeing splotches of colors run past my eyes. “10 minutes later, he’s running into my room, close to tears. I was there, with him practically on my lap—hugging him when his father called him to let him know how much he loved him, and how proud he was of Jon. He wanted to talk me and tell me to take care of his son, and my best friend,” I suddenly get choked up, feeling a few tears leak from my eyes, “I was there, with Jon, in my room on 9/11, when his father died"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that I didn't offend anyone who did lose someone in 9/11.  
> I hope that I handled with care and as much respect as I could.  
> Thank you for reading.


	4. Guilty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I roll my eyes annoyingly. God damn pervert. He seems to think that sex will solve how I’m feeling. Not even sex can fix me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I would break your hearts a little bit more

 

**Chapter 4: Guilty**

* * *

                “Ryan, there was nothing you could have done to save his fathe—“

                “He died while I was on the phone with him, he wouldn’t let Jon hear him as he jumped of the building,” I quickly interrupt Brendon, and then wipe a single tear away with my ring finger. I still remember the drop of the phone on the ground and the screams. To this day I still have nightmares about the screams and being in that room with Jon. I always wake up screaming for Jon expecting for him to be right next to me. When I had the nightmares and Jon was there everything was okay.

                “Please don’t be depressed, because I really don’t feel like making you happy right now, I’m still tired,” Brendon comments. I roll my eyes annoyingly. God damn pervert. He seems to think that sex will solve how I’m feeling. Not even sex can fix me. I instantly cool when I feel Brendon’s breathing against mine. “Sorry—want to make sure that you’re happy”

                “It’s fine Brendon. Just—sex it’s not the only thing that makes me happy. And sometimes sex isn’t the best way to cure things” He sighs against my chest, our breathing matching. There’s still so much to tell him about Jon—everything.

                “From then on, he wasn’t the same Jon I knew. It was like something snapped in him. We were about 13 when we smoked weed for the first time, from some bad dealer who ripped us off. I didn’t really have a problem with it at the time. Living in Las Vegas you see it all of the time. It was just part of living where we were and we were just simply experimenting. He also took his Dad’s death really hard. I thought it was part of the grieving process. Now that Jon’s dead I have to come to terms that he used his Dad’s death to have someone to experiment with him. He wanted to try the newest strand of weed or ‘Ryan—dude—it tastes like strawberry’ or mix it with this. I had known Jon for a few years then and at age 13 I knew that I loved Jon Walker. At the time I didn’t know what _kind_ of love it was. But I knew that I loved him—I wouldn’t let him destroy himself _alone._

                “So, I let myself take the drugs with he was taking. I don’t remember if I enjoyed the feeling of the coke and the feeling of the withdraws. I locked a lot of that stuff away. Of I never took the amount he did because I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t overdose and choke on his vomit but it was still pretty nasty. One day he did finally overdose—coke—and I stayed with him until the ambulance for him. We had a—fuck what it’s called—mutualistic relationship. I was his errand boy—getting his drugs—and I was along for the ride to make sure he was safe. We both had our reasons for staying friends at that time. We needed each other to survive. The ambulance took us to the hospital and they had to pump his stomach while I waited in the waiting room. Waiting rooms already freak me out—it smells like uncertainly and fear.  

                “The hospital and police had called my mother. Part of the rules and all that. I remember that when she picked me up she told me not to tell my father.  She was so scared of my Dad and what he made do to us both, she choose to ignore it. We haven’t mentioned it to this day. Jon’s mother choose to ignore it too and the police let us off with a warning. Las Vegas cops don’t do shit. You know, to this day, my father still doesn’t know that I was smoking, and taking cocaine,” I sigh sadly, “That school year consisted of raising hell, becoming what we thought as rebels,” I chuckle, and then look down at Brendon. “Summer came and went in a hazy blur, and then as school began again, I come to the realization that I had to stop. Jon had started using heroin and I knew that I had to stop. I couldn’t allow myself to take it, even if it was for Jon,” I grit through my teeth, clenching up my whole body, recalling the moment when I burst into his bedroom, shocked when I saw him with that stupid needle in his arm.

                “Ryan, don’t clench up,” I hear Brendon say softly on my skin, “Everything’s alright, everything is in the past”

                I sigh softly, “That’s kind of the problem, Bren. Jon and I didn’t talk again until the summer of 2006, right around June. He came by my house for the first time in two years. I had seen him around school a few times before that, but there was this unspoken agreement that we wouldn’t talk to each other. I eventually faded into the background of middle school, joining band cl—“

                “Oh my god, I’m totally with a band geek,” Brendon interrupts with a giggle, pulling his hands away from mine. I whine softy, but quickly gasp, when I feel his hands gliding up and down my sides.

                “I cannot last a fifth time today,” I gasp out, “I might explode” I am completely okay with stopping the story right now—yup—so completely okay.

                “Oh? I didn’t know that it felt good,” he whispers into my skin, grasping my hipbones with his tight long fingers.

                “You’re the one who wanted to hear of the rest story, and you’re making me distracted”

                “Just because I’m touching your body doesn’t mean that I want to have sex,” he chuckles, as he slides his hands up my stomach earning a small moan from me. His left hand stops right next to his head, then he laces the other with mine. “Honestly, all you think about is sex”

                “Don’t do that, Brendon, it’s already.” I pause to look at the clock, “8pm, and I have to get up at like 7am because I have to work tomorrow” Where had the time gone? Had I honestly slept that long after me and Brendon blew me? Or maybe time just flies with Brendon. I should really finish the story.

                “No, your work is staying here with me in this bed, exploring every cavity of ou—“

                “If you finish that sentence I will not finish this story, because I’ll be too busy ravishing every inch of your body,” I respond, my voice husky and low. I hear Brendon sigh helplessly, and then he nods, his hair rubbing against my bare chest. I kiss the top of his head, and then begin to speak again, “I joined band, and I met a few new friends. I completely forgot about Jon, and what was going on. It took a while, but I eventually did. But, I still needed him when it came to my Dad. I couldn’t tell people at school about the drinking and the hitting that I had become accustomed to,” I flinch, still being able to remember it like yesterday. I instantly cool and smile when I feel Brendon place a small kiss on my chest.

                “He’s not here; Ryan is safe,” he whispers softly into my skin. I could never tired of his voice. It was melodic, and soothing, all at the same sexy. I could know him for a thousand years and I still wouldn’t be to pinpoint exactly what his voice sounds like.

                “Thanks, Bren,” I sigh softly, “Since Jon wasn’t there, I just became numb to feeling pain. Jon was my protection, because my father wouldn’t hit me or my Mom when people were around. He would get totally wasted, but he didn’t cross over that line. Those two years when I was without Jon I become secluded for the most part. Like I had said, I had friends, but none of them came back to the house. I didn’t want to scare them off. Or make them think I was a freak. It was like a switch that went off within myself. At school I was the happy Ryan because I didn’t have to deal with being afraid every time I heard a footstep, but as soon as I got home I locked myself in my room and didn’t come out until it was time for school the next day,” I gnaw at my lower lip, “I didn’t protect my Mom at all, Brendon. When she was sent to the hospital for a broken nose, I just sat in my room”

                “There wasn’t much you could do, Ry, you were scared shitless. You didn’t know what to do in that situation”

                “I feel guilty, Brendon. If I had done things differently then maybe things would be differently,” I whisper softly, my eyes cast up toward the ceiling. I could have prevented Jon’s death if things were just a little different. But I wouldn’t have Brendon in my bed would I? It’s a double edged sword.

                “You can’t spend your life wishing, and thinking of what ifs. Things would still be where they are today. You can’t look back on the past and expect it to change. You can only look toward the future,” Brendon’s soothing voice sighed out. But what if Jon was alive? Would I still be here with Brendon? Would I even be living in Nevada still?

                “I’m afraid of the future, Bren. I don’t want to lose you. You’re the best thing that has happened to me,” I wrap my arms around his waist, and then kiss the top of his head. He is but this may have only happened because Jon died. If he didn’t die would we have broken up and would I be with Brendon right now?

                “You won’t lose me, Ry, no matter what happened in the past, or in the future; you won’t ever lose me. I promise you, and I keep my promises,” he mumbles into my skin. My brain is going a mile a minute. If Jon was alive would I still be with Brendon? Would I be worse than I am now? And would Brendon still like me after I tell him what I did? I take in a deep breathe, and then let it out.

                “I did a lot of growing up during those few years. It was then when I finally came to terms with who I really loved,” I finch, preparing myself for him to yell, “After I tried to cure myself of being gay,” I add sadly, and then look up at the ceiling. When I tried to ‘cure’ myself of being gay there was no other escape. It would just give my Dad another excuse to drink, and then get angrier at my Mom. I couldn’t give him an excuse to hit my mother harder. I just couldn’t.

                “Did you send yourself to a conversion camp? I don’t really understand those though, you throw a whole bunch of horny teenagers into one camp with only a few adults and something is bound to happen. I mean come on, like who came up with that id—“

                “I used Eurie,” I quickly interrupt, immediately regretting saying it. Silence falls upon the room for what feels like an eon, with the sounds of our combined breathing and heartbeats the only thing reminding us that we didn’t suddenly lose our hearing. “Fine then, if you’re not going to answer me, then I’m going to go sleep on the couch,” I growl out, and quickly slide out from underneath him, and stand on the floor, determined to hurt him as much as possible. He said that I wouldn’t lose him, but obviously he just broke his promise right now. Promises don’t mean shit. “I knew this was a bad fucking idea,” I slide off my pair of sticky boxers, and slide on a new pair from my falling apart brown dresser. I angrily grab a pair of black jeans, and slide those on, huffing and puffing.

                “My parents discovered Amorphine and Eurie, and forced me to take Amorphine, when woman were around, and Eurie when guys were around. Of course this completely backfired; back then they didn’t really understand the effects and when the drug actually takes effect”

                My mouth drops, and so does my grip on my pants, them falling promptly to the ground. I feel like a complete and utter ass, who should be trying to make him _feel_ better. But I was never good at giving, Jon had actually complained about that in the past. I was such a tease, and could never really deliver, leaving him to finish up the work. But—Brendon doesn’t want sex right now. I can do that.

                He begins again, with an obvious tremor, “I was their test subject,” he spits out with venom, and then suddenly bursts into utter sobs, his body curled up into a ball on the bed, where I just was. I quickly run (and almost falling over the jeans on the ground) over to bed, and scoop him up in my arms. He’s lighter than I thought he was going to be. Brendon wraps his long arms around my neck, and presses a manic kiss to my lips, digging his nails into my neck. I instantly groan, starting to become hard again. This is really starting to be a problem, I think, as he parts my lips with his intruding tongue. I try to pull back, only to have teeth pull my lips back to his, and his intruding tongue once again sliding into my mouth, and then just as quickly withdrawn. “Sorry,” he says sniffling, “I had to feel happy again, and you were my only choice” He nuzzles his head into the space between my shoulder and my neck, and then sighs, my whole body becoming instantly lighter. I carefully slide into bed, with Brendon still in my arms.

                “You’re going to have to let go. My arms aren’t that strong,” I chuckle, and I get a blast of Brendon’s warm breathe in my ear, a long and happy exhale falling out of my lips.

                “We should go back to my place,” Brendon announces energetically, “We could actually cuddle. And we really need to get you a new bed if I’m going to be spending more time over here. We can’t really fit in this bed together,” I tune out his rambling thoughts.

                Are me and him a we? And should we—I mean me and him—refer to each other so soon in the relationship? Every time I try to start the story again, something gets in the way, from full breakdowns, to seductive looks from Brendon; it feels like I will never finish this story, and get him to really know me. I’m so fucking stupid for thinking this too. I feel an underdeveloped teenager in a twenty year olds body who can’t get his mind right no matter what he tries.

                “Are you even paying attention to me, Smoothie Boy,” his pouting voice pulling me out of my thoughts.

                “Yeah—Sorry, was drifting off, long day,” I respond quickly, faking a yawn. Has all of this happened in one day? It feels like a full week went by in one day.

                “What a better excuse for you to come back to my place. I have this huge fucking bed and I need someone to keep me warm”

                “Weren’t you just going to stay here tonight,” I ask him, ignoring the cramps in my arms.

                “My house has a swimming pool, and a hot tub, and chocolate, and all of my music, and my stuffed animal, and my bed, and my pillows, and my covers, and my—“

                “Alright, alright, alright,” I say in defeat, “I’ll go with you” He pecks me on the cheek, and springs out of my arms, landing on his feet. I’m pretty sure he’s part cat or dog; maybe catdog.

                “I’ll grab the ice cream, and anything else we might need, pack some PJs,” he announces, and exits the room, sashaying his hips as he goes. I can’t help but lay in bed, and smile. So our relationship may be unconventional; I might not know how old he is, what his favorite food, or color is. Or even if he’s been in a lot of relationships. Or if Jon might be the only reason I’m with Brendon right now. But I honestly don’t care at this point. When I look at Brendon my heart seems to explode out of my chest.

                “You better be getting dressed, Smoothie Boy! Or I’m going to come in there and dress you myself,” Brendon yells from the kitchen. I can’t help but giggle.

                “I THINK YOU MIGHT HAVE TO DRESS ME! I CAN’T MOVE MY ARMS!” I scream out to him, and then I feel apartment as I hear his feet running on the carpeted floor. “BETTER HURRY UP! I CAN’T FEEL MY LIPS!” I chuckle to myself, and then spot Brendon in the doorway, his brown hair everywhere, and his breathing raged. “Oh wow, look at that, I can move my arm aga—“ Before I can finish, Brendon is on top of me, sticking his tongue down my throat, his hands tangled up in my hair.

                Yeah, I honestly don’t care at all.


	5. Pale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I slowly open my eyes, not surprised that Brendon is staring right at me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter as a teaser since I've been really nice in uploading a lot of chapters recently..  
> I've been stuck recently so I'm uploading these old chapters to hopefully get me into the mood to write

 

**Chapter 5: Pale**

* * *

               “Ry, Ryan, wake up, we’re here,” I hear a soft voice whisper to me. I groan, and clench my eyes tighter. I don’t want to move. I slowly open my eyes, not surprised that Brendon is staring right at me.

                “You’re reaching Edward Cullen stage, Bren,” my voice still sleepy.

                “My complexion isn’t _that_ pale,” he comments with a chuckle. I grumble in the place of a chuckle. “I could carry you, if you would like,” he whispers into my ear, and I nod softly in response, then close my eyes again, letting my head fall back onto the head rest, slowly nodding off into sleep.


	6. Spoons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I squint, as I feel the sudden bright light of the sun hit my eyes and face in a rude wake up call. The weather never liked me anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm waiting for the next chapter till Wednesday because it's the full truth of what happened to Jon and it's a big thing.  
> It will make you cry so I'm waiting to ruin your lives. Aren't I nice?  
> You should also follow me on my tumblr! dreamofmetonight.tumblr.com   
> I post tons of things and I'll post updates about the story and other things!   
> I hope that you have enjoyed the chapters so far!

 

**Chapter 6: Spoons**

* * *

I squint, as I feel the sudden bright light of the sun hit my eyes and face in a rude wake up call. The weather never liked me anyway. I remember that it rained when Jon died, and on his funereal. He would probably be happy; he didn’t like bright shiny days like this. Everyone at his funereal had found it weird that it had rained, since we live in Death Valley and all. The sky just suddenly opened up and all of a sudden just poured down rain. His mom had said that it was Jon’s final goodbye.

                “You’re awake too,” Brendon whispers in my ear, small shivers escape down my body. My mind quickly transitions to him as I feel him run his hands down my bac—Wait are we spooning? And am I the little spoon? What the hell? I’ve always been the big spoon when it came to sleeping with Jon. His beard rubbing against my back always freaked me out so he was always the little spoon. It was awkward as hell but we still managed to figure it out. He always mentioned that I was too bony for him to get comfortable on though. Brendon doesn’t feel bony though. He feels like home.

                “How could you tell, big spoon,” I reply sleepily and then yawn.

                “You have an adorable voice when you’re first waking up, Smoothie Boy”

                I cough quickly shaking sleep out of my voice, and then begin to speak, “I really need to find a nickname for you that is as embarrassing as Smoothie Boy, but I don’t really know a whole lot about you” Smoothie Boy just makes me sound like a servant. Maybe he could call me guyliner like Jon did. Shit, Ry—stop thinking about Jon. You’re with Brendon now.  

                “Hmm…,” Brendon pauses for a minute, “When I was little—maybe around 5 or so—my parents took me to a park, it was one of their rare chances in which they actually got away from work. When I was little, I was a fat kid” I can’t imagine him ever being fat, he’s so stick thin and muscular. “I was put in day care a lot and family members took care of me—to be honest my parents weren’t ready to be parents—so I hadn’t burned off that weight yet. Moving on, my parents took me to the park, and stuffed me into a kids swing, the one where the kids can’t fall out o—“

                “You know, there is a park near Smoothie Hut if you want to go there after work,” I quickly interrupt him. Maybe it would remind him of when he was little. I want him to feel as comfortable as possible in Las Vegas. He can’t leave Nevada any time soon, or this bed. Not like Jo—stop it. Stop it right now.

                “You don’t have work today,” Brendon says coolly, and then places a small kiss on the nape of my neck, my eyes open slowly, being blinded by the sunlight. I let out a groan, and then quickly close my eyes again. Why does he have to keep the blinds open?

                “What do you mean I don’t have work? I had talked to Pete, and he said that because Spencer hasn’t been showing up I would need to work more hours. Not that it’s a bad thing, I could always use the money”

                “I talked to William before you woke up, and he told Pete that you were sick in bed and couldn’t work today”

                “But I’m not sick, I’m perfectly fine. And I really need the money as well,” I whine, only to have Brendon kiss down my shoulder blade, stopping at my collarbone. My body immediately turns into putty. Whenever I’m around Brendon I feel like my body can’t get enough of him.

                “If you go to work, you won’t be able to feel my hands on your skin,” he whispers into my ear, rubbing his hands slowly around my stomach, causing a low moan to erupt from my lips. He can do this so early in the morning when I’m so sensitive to—that motherfucker, I think as I gaze down at my already half hard cock. “And you are sick, so I can make you all better,” he growls into my ear, running his hands down to my lower stomach, stopping _this_ short from my cock. I can’t move, I am completely in the palm of his hands, and he knows it. “So, now that I’ve got you relaxed—and horny enough—to not move, let’s continue with the story”

                I grit my teeth, and feel like flipping him over, and fucking him senseless, in any way possible in this huge white queen mattress. If he’s got handcuffs, _fuck yeah_. Whips? Sure, as long as I get to do the whipping. I just want him to beg for me in any way possible. I’m not a sadist; I swear. I just want to make him moan and groan just like he did back in my bedro—

                “Ry? Did you fall asleep,” Brendon’s voice interrupts my thoughts. I quickly shake my head no, Brendon’s hands returning to their normal position around my waist. “Good—so—my parents stick me in the swing, but they put me in backwards. My legs were so meaty that they didn’t get me out. No parent—no matter how strong there were—could get me out. They ended up calling the fire department, and the police. Imagine this—there was this whole big thing, for one crying 5 year old kid who wanted his Mom. Everyone was just standing around, looking at me, trying to figure out the best way to get me out without cutting my legs off. After a few hours—my parents went back to work by this time—the fire department got me out cutting the swing off the rope, using butter, and then sliding me out that way. I feel kind of proud though. Before I left California I walked by that swing-set and laughed. I can say to myself that that swing is cut down because of _me_. Reminds me of my childhood,” he chuckles sadly and then kisses the nape of my neck.

                “I have a better nickname now that I think about it,” I announce, looking down at my growing erection. If Brendon doesn’t feel up to it, I’ll have to go back to my apartment and jerk off in the shower. It’s inconsiderate to do it in other people’s showers; even the people you’re sleeping with.

                “Oh,” Brendon responds, “And what’s that,” his voice soft and husky.

                “It’s Beautiful Creatur—Brendon,” suddenly I feel a shock to my system, just now noticing that Brendon’s hand is on my cock, his thumb running along my slit, not even sure how it’s possible for him to stretch that fair. “Not fair,” I manage to squeak out, resisting the urge to throw my head back and just enjoy the ride. I wanted to dominate him and make him feel this way. He’s always giving and never receiving. Even back in my bedroom he did most of the work for himself.

                “It is totally fair, Smoothie Boy,” he whispers into my ear, moving his wonderful hand down to the base of my cock.

                “Brendon,” I cry out, biting down on my lip hard enough to draw blood. He won’t get a moan from me no matter how hard my cock is growing with each one of his movements.

                “Ryan,” he coos into my ear, and then bites down hard on my lower lobe, his hand traveling back up to the tip of my cock, his thumb ghosting over my head teasing me once again.

                “Late—Yes—Brendon—Fucking—Yes,” my mouth and body disobeying me, letting out an earthshattering moan, as Brendon starts to pump up and down, pre-come already soaking into my boxers and jeans.

                “Mmmm…,” he licks at the side of my neck, a low animalistic groan escaping from my lips, “This is a perfect way to wake up in the morning” My hips jerk forward, only to be pulled backwards from a tug to my hair, another groan slipping through my lips. “You aren’t getting away from me,” his voice smoky and dark, digging his nails into my back. He flicks his wrist that the sensation that I live for suddenly bubbling back up.

                “S-Soon,” my voice shaky, ready to come undone at any second, his hand starting to speed up.

                “Hmmm… I think that I can fix that,” his voice husky in my ear, causing me to shiver, my heart exploding in my chest. “How does this feel,” he asks pressing his fingernail hard into my slit.

                “Brendon!” I scream out loudly, instantly spewing come all over his hand, my body shaking as the pleasure rockets from my curled toes to my brain that is now mush. “Good wakeup call, Butters,” my voice still shaky and breathless. My eyes slowly close after the blinding white light has passed by my eyes. Is it possible that it gets better each time I’m with him? Because it totally has. Even though my back is sweaty and I feel disgusting I can’t help but smile and then giggle.

                “Butters is totally not a good nickname,” Brendon protests.

                “Neither is Smoothie Boy”

                “Smoothie Boy sounds cute though—The Adventure Of Smoothie Boy and Brendon,” he laughs as he pulls his hand of my boxers and wipes my come on my Pacman pajama pants. I look down at my pants and grit my teeth. Pacman looks like he’s eating my come.

                “Don’t wipe my come on my pants,” I hiss at him in anger. I don’t have any other pants to wear and come doesn't come out easily. 

                “You could always walk around in your boxers,” he wraps his arms around my waist, and then kisses my cheek. The anger quickly fades away as his fingers ghost over my stomach. My stomach growls in response, and Brendon chuckles. “I’m guessing that someone is hungry”

                “Maybe a tad,” I say with a shy smile, and then turn around in Brendon’s arms to face him. “I could always walk down to Burger King and get some food for us”

                “In your come covered pajamas? I don’t think so. I’ll just have Keltie make something for us,” he replies, and then kisses my nose. I winkle my nose, and then stick my tongue out at him.

                “Who is Keltie, and I was going to borrow a pair of your jeans” Wait, did I just walk into a really weird threesome going on? I don’t want to the other wom—I’m not a woman.

                “Keltie is the cook that I hired, and I think that my jeans might be a little big,” he pauses, “In the crotch area,” he finishes with a crooked grin.

                “What the hell, Bren, you have a cook? What are you rich? And your pants will not be too big,” I roll my eyes, “Too much confidence is not a good trait to attract a suitor,” I smirk, reciting William’s words.

                “Even though my parents don’t really support my life style, they still pay for me to live my life. I’m lucky for that. Since they discovered Amorphine and Eurie, and other drugs that I can’t even talk about, they do have quite a bit of money. So, they funded me coming to Las Vegas, and they support my life. So, I’m not rich, but I’m not poor, so I’m kind of in the mid—“ I quickly interrupt him with a kiss. He rambles too much sometimes, but it’s a cute ramble.

                I pull away from the kiss slowly, and then begin to speak, “Bren, I was just joking, I don’t care if you’re rich or not. It’s the farthest from my mind. But I wasn’t joking about the pants situation”

                “Dude, don’t hate just because you’ve got penis envy,” Brendon gazes down to my crotch. “Because we both know who has the biggest cock in this room”

                I chuckle, “Like I had said, Bren, too much confidence is not a good trait to find a suitor”

                “If I don’t find a suitor, I always have you as a backup,” he winks.

                I scoff, and place my hand to my heart, “That really hurt, Brendon,” I say sarcastically.

                “Maybe you should teach me better,” his eyebrows waving suggestively. I nod slowly.

                “Maybe I should,” my voice full of mischief.

                “We aren’t going to eat for a while, are we”

                I shake my head with a goofy smile, “No way in hell”


	7. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No! Just let me go! I don’t want to be here anymore!” I scream out, digging my nails into his back. “You can’t keep me here!”  
> “Tell me about Jon, tell me about him, right now; it will help,” Brendon’s voice stern. I claw at his back, and kick at him but he stands stoic, not even flinching. “Talk about him—it will help—I promise”

 

**Chapter 7: Jon**

* * *

By the time we get downstairs to eat, William has called me and texted me 20 times, Pete has called me 10 times, and Spencer has even attempted to call me, but all I heard when I listened to the voice mail was the sound of blenders. Poor guy. He’s lost too many brain cells to even work a cell phone.

           Spencer was always a big smoker, even when I knew him back in high school. And in middle school I didn’t really know him. But from what Jon told me he was a big smoker back in middle school as well. Jon and Spencer were best friends during the time that me and Jon didn’t speak. Spencer filled the gap during the time that I wasn’t there. I don’t mean to be cocky but he was the pseudo-Ryan. But he’s a lot different than me. He’s more like Brendon—hyperactive and always bouncing off the walls. At least he was like that during middle school. Spencer is a lot different now. More like a walking zombie who is just managing to skate by. Maybe me and him are alike after all.

           It is a little strange to have done all of this stuff to have started getting into drugs when we were all younger. Looking back on it, it seems like it’s not even real. But it is and it’s strange. I’ve blown threw the drugs that were around when we were younger. Of course there’s more being made—look at Brendon and his parents. Jon has used Brendon’s parents’ products in the past. And sometimes I blame Spencer for introducing him into the really hard drugs, but I know that he made his own choices too, and he didn’t have to use heroine, or acid, or anything. It was _his_ choice. So was his own death.

           “There you are! I had a feeling you were here,” I hear Brendon exclaim from behind me. “The water is really relaxing to look at sometimes, isn’t it?”

           I nod softly, and swing my legs back in the forth in the water, watching the ripples. I see out of the corner of my eye that Brendon sits down next to me.

           “I can bring breakfast in here if you want, it might be kind of hard with the eggs, and the pancakes, but I can bring it here if you want,” his voice soft. I nod softly, and give him a half smile. “Do you eat meat? Keltie made bacon”

           I shake my head no, still looking at the water. Why do I feel so upset all of a sudden? Brendon is here and I should be happy and thinking about him. But the only person I seem to be thinking about is Jon and the past.

           “I’ll be right back, then,” Brendon whispers, and then places a kiss to my cheek. I give him another half-smile, then hear the squeak of his sneakers as he gets up and walks out of the pool room.

           I quickly pull out my cell phone, and then unlock, but then realize, who could I even talk to about how I’m feeling? William wouldn’t understand, he still doesn’t know the full story of what happened. Pete doesn’t even know any of the story and—Spencer. Spencer knows. He knows everything. I highlight Spencer’s name on my contacts, my thumb hovering over the call button. But, do I really want to talk to him and open up that wound? We haven’t said two words to each since Jon’s funereal, even during work. We just avoid each other. I should be happy with Brendon, so why do I feel this big gaping hole sometimes? I hear sneakers against the hardwood floor, and I pocket my phone.

           “So, I tried to make vegetarian bacon because Keltie had left, but I made leather instead. And since you don’t eat meat, I thought you might not want to eat it,” Brendon says absent minding less while walking into the room. “But, William left you some bacon, so I took his stash and put it on your plate,” he rambles on.

           “I think he knows you better than you know yourself,” I say with a chuckle.

           “No—okay, I called him this morning, and he answered his phone with ‘I’ll tell Pete that Ryan isn’t coming in. I’ll be over to your house—I’ll need the address by the way—with some bacon for Ryan. It’ll cheer him up if he hasn’t already cheered up with you’ He reads your mind, Ry—I’m scared that he’s going to either kill me with his mind or his fashion sense” he rambles on, and then sits down next to me, handing me my plate, and a fork.

           “Thanks,” I take the plate from him, and start shoveling down food, not realizing how hungry I really was.

           “Ry, slow down, you’re acting like you haven’t eaten in days” You are right, Bren, I haven’t, besides that salad that you tried to force down my throat. I don’t have a reason to eat.

           I swallow, and then begin to speak, “I normally don’t eat breakfast—don’t have time to get to work and still eat something. So this is a treat. I used to love breakfast, even though my mom burned everything she touched” I start on the piece of bread, feeling myself being watched by Brendon. I swallow, and then look at him. “What?” I ask him, wiping a piece of butter off my face with the back of my hand.

           “You don’t mention your parents a lot,” Brendon replies, and then looks down at his hands, “I just assumed that you didn’t want to tell me, or…” he trails off. I sigh, and then place the plate next to me the china rattling against the tile. I face him and pull my legs out of the water. I fold my legs underneath me and ignore my now soaking wet boxers. I trail my eyes up towards Brendon’s and breathe in deeply.

           “Listen, I don’t talk about my parents a lot, because they aren’t really worth mentioning. Like I had said before, my Dad’s an alcoholic, still is to this day, and when I finally came out of the closet, my loving mom and dad kicked me out,” venom filling my voice. “I haven’t told you a whole lot, because every time we talk about it, we kind up having sex” I shrug my shoulders noncommittingly. 

           Brendon chuckles, and then laces his fingers into my hand, “I promise I won’t have sex with you right now, if you want to tell me. If you don’t want to tell me right now, or even in a week or a month—that’s okay. It may not seem like it, but I’m completely okay with waiting,” he finishes, and then brings my hand up his lips, and then kisses it.

           “Thanks, Beautiful Creature,” a goofy smile on my face, as I pull our connected hands back to the tilted floor.

           “That’s an awfully weird nickname, Smoothie Boy”

           “Well, when you came into Smoothie Hut, I couldn’t ask your name because I was speechless—so—in my head I named you Beautiful Creature”

           “That is fucking adorable,” a smile spreading across his face.

           “What did you think of me when you first saw me,” I ask him, my eyes shying down to our hands.

           “I thought a lot of things, Smoothie Boy,” he chuckles, “but I thought you were adorable, even though you were mute and couldn—“

           “I was not mute!” I interrupt him, and then pout.

           “I know that now, Ry. I totally know that, judging by how loud you are in bed. If I knew how loud you were, I would have totally nailed you right there in that shop. I was also thinking if I creeped my hand up your thigh ever so slightly if you would make a noise,” he finishes his voice brooding.

           “Bren,” I groan, “Thought we weren’t going to talk about sex right now. I’m still eating, and I haven’t even eaten my bacon yet”

           “Not my fault that I have an incredible sex drive. I’m pretty sure that my parents giving me all those pills made me even hornier,” he whispers, leaning towards me then biting down on my lower lobe.

           “Later,” I reply, “Now stop biting before I push you in the pool” I pick up a piece of bacon, and tear off a piece, slowly chewing.

           “Would you really throw me in the pool? Would you really,” he asks, and then bites on my ear again, quickly pulling back.

           I swallow, and then nod, “I totally would” I unclasp our hands, and then promptly push him using my left hand, while taking a bite of the bacon in my right. Brendon screams, and I smile at him, still chewing.

           “You are in trouble, Smoothie Boy, so much trouble, but I will wait for you to finish your food. You need food, you’re too skinny. And I wanted to hear the end of that never ending story,” Brendon glares, and then rips his shirt off, throwing it on top of my head. I feel like I’m in a romantic comedy movie where the guy is stripping for the girl and she just stares in shock at what’s happening. I might not be a girl but _god damn_ is that a six pack? And I'm not dreaming?

           I quickly pull the wet shirt off of my head and put it down to next to me. I unfold my legs and place them back into the pool avoiding Brendon’s eyeshot. I pick up my plate, and continue eating my food, avoiding Brendon’s half naked body. I feel like I’m in 13 Going On 30 when that guy starts stripping for Jenny and she doesn’t know what’s going on an—no, I did not watch 13 Going On 30—what are you talking about? And I didn’t used to fantasize on how I wished my life would be like a romantic comedy. 

           “Since you’re still eating, maybe I should tell you about me. We don’t really know a lot about each other—hell, you don’t even know how old I am. So, I’ll fill in the lines for you. I was born on April 21st, 1989, which means that I’m 24. I was born at exactly nine am—I’m more of a morning person than a night person so that suits me quite well. When I was born, I broke the record for being the largest baby in the hospital at 8 pounds and 7 ounces. My favorite color is red, but not that blood orange shit—actual red. I’ve broken so many bones in my body from injuries, I’m surprised that I’m still standing. I used to play sports a lot when I was younger—really enjoyed it actually. But too many injuries got the best of me. That’s when I got into music—I play piano, guitar, bass guitar, piano, keyboard, drums, percussion, accordion, organ, cello, violin, trumpet, but my true love is singing. The main reason I moved to Las Vegas was to see what the music scene is like. California has a huge music scene, but so huge that people get washed out fairly quickly. So—are you done eating yet,” he finally breathes in, as I stare at him dumbfounded. How he could talk for that long, and not stop boggles my mind. Then again, I was never that much of a talker, no matter how much William and Pete tell me otherwise.

           I look down at my now empty plate, and then nod, “Yeah, I’m done. Everything was really good. Tell Keltie that I said thank you” I put the plate down next to me, and then look up at Brendon.

           “Now that you’re done eating, I think it’s time for some revenge,” he chuckles darkly, and then dives under the water. Shit, shit, shit. I shouldn’t have done that. Sometimes Brendon scares me, in the sense of how confident he is. He doesn’t give a fuck, and would probably walk around naked if he could. Suddenly Brendon appears right in front of my legs that are still in the water. “Just wondering, can you swim,” he looks up at me, his eyes flickering from my eyes to my nose.

           “Yeah I can sw—“ suddenly I’m pulled forwards by my feet, falling face forward into the shallow end of the pool. I quickly come up for air, sputtering, spitting out water. “Brendon! I’mma kill you!” I glare, and spin around, looking for Brendon but he’s nowhere to be seen. “You probably fried my cell phone!” I stop dead in my tracks. My cell phone. Pictures of Jon. I frantically pull my cell phone out of my jeans (that I ended up borrowing from Brendon anyway), seeing that it has turned off. “No, no, no, don’t you dare die on me,” I mumble, pushing the on button several times with my wet fingers. After the 10th attempt I throw my cell phone against the beige walls in frustration.

           “Don’t kill my walls, they didn’t do anything to you” That fucking asshole.

           “You fried my motherfucking cell phone, you asshole! Do you have any idea what was on that?! Do you?” I scream, my voice echoing against the walls, “No you don’t! Because every time I try to tell you, YOU TRY TO HAVE SEX! I am an actual living being, with feelings, and a story! Not just a sex doll who you can fuck, and push into pools!” I finish, my heart racing, my breathing ragged.

           “I—I’ll get you a new cell phone, I—I can probably fix it,” he replies, sputtering through his words, looking like he may cry, but I don’t give a fuck.

           “That’s not the point, Brendon! All you think about is sex! Before I met you, I hadn’t had sex with another person for about two years! And now I can’t get a word in edgewise! I’ve tried to tell you what happened with my parents—did you forget that!? You seemed surprised when I talked about them! Or was all of the blood rushing to your cock!? We’ve only known each other for 4 days, and I’m already feeling like I’m being suffocated! You make it seem like we’re going to be together for forever and adopt kids from fucking China—do you even know if I would like to have children?! You don’t! All you know is that my Dad is an asshole and my mom can’t cook! We haven’t even had a first date, for fuck’s sake! I knew what you sounded like when you came before I even knew how old you are! This is just a one night stand for you!” I stare at him, my chest heaving as he stands on the outer rim of the swallow end of the pool. “I’m just a one night stand you brought home!”

           Brendon jumps into the pool, swims over to me, and then wraps me into a tight hug.

           “No! Just let me go! I don’t want to be here anymore!” I scream out, digging my nails into his back. “You can’t keep me here!”

           “Tell me about Jon, tell me about him, right now; it will help,” Brendon’s voice stern. I claw at his back, and kick at him but he stands stoic, not even flinching. “Talk about him—it will help—I promise”

           “I don’t want to talk about Jon! You don’t deserve to know about him and what happened! I wish that he was here instead of you!”

           “Pretend I’m not here then—I’m invisible—do it”

           I dig at his back drawing blood but he still doesn’t flinch. He—he shouldn’t get to know. He ruined the only thing I have left of Jon. But—he won’t let me go. I—I have to tell him or someone or I might finally explode. It's time. 

           “He—He came by my house two years after we stopped being friends, he stormed into my house—he—he flung my door open, and then he—he slammed it shut, and then pushed me up against the wall. He—He kissed me hard enough that I felt like I was bleeding,” my voice is choked up, having now given up clawing at Brendon’s back, “We—We went to Warped Tour as a couple, a chance to get away from our p-parents, and not r-risk a chance of getting spotted k-kissing each other. The night w-we went to Warped Tour together, we r-rented a hotel room, a-and I had sex for the first t-time” I take another breathe, trying to ignore the tears that are now falling down my wet cheeks. How was this helping?

           “Keep on going,” Brendon adds softly, rubbing my back gently.

           “W-We stole a kiss every chance we could. I s-snuck out late at night. W-We drove down The Strip when w-we were 16. W-We skipped school for a few days when w-we were 17, and my D-Dad was in a coma. W-We took a road trip to California, became t-tourists, and smoked way too much pot,” I chuckle sadly, “W-When we turned 18, w-we made plans to go to college together, m-more chances to be together. W-We both got accepted, and we moved into our room. S-Shared dorms was less expensive, I told my M-Mom and she agreed. S-She wasn’t a person by the time I-I left her. M-My father beat her will out of h-her. T-The college wasn’t far, but I still f-felt guilty about leaving her,” I breathe in deeply, starting to feel better, getting everything off my chest.

           “Go ahead, Ry, you can finish, if you want to,” Brendon says reassuringly, still rubbing my back gently. With each sentence I felt like I was getting high. I felt lighter and lighter.

           “W-We came out when were in our sophomore year. W-We thought it was about time. Everyone at c-college knew. W-We t-told Jon’s mom and s-stepdad first,” I will myself to finally finish this story—I wanted to—no—I needed to, “T-They d-disowned him. H-His mom,” I shake my head, unable to get it out, the tears clogging up my voice.

           “It’s alright, Ry, you don’t need to tell everything; don’t push yourself,” Brendon’s voice soothing me. I shake my head quickly, and then gulp around the giant lump in my throat. If I don’t get it out it will end up killing me.

           “I need to tell you—h-haven’t told anyone the full truth. J-Jon’s mom told him that his f-father would be a-ashamed of him. It c-completely destroyed him. H-He didn’t come back to our r-room later that night. H-he said that he needed to t-think and just l-left,” I feel like my legs are about to give out on me at any minute, ”W-We were supposed to t-talk to my parents t-the n-next d-day, h-he w-was f-found b-before I-I w-went t-to t-talk t-to m-my p-parents. H-He t-took t-too m-much E-E-E-E-Eurie. H-He didn’t w-w-w-w-want t-t-t-t-to l-l-l-l-l-l-o-o-o-ove me a-a-a-anymore,” I instantly feel my knees drop, exhausted, only to feel Brendon keep me upright. “S-S-S-S-Spencer s-s-s-s-sold it to h-h-h-h-him. J-J-Jon was so a-a-a-ashamed of me, h-h-h-h-h-he used E-E-Eurie, a-a-a-a-a-a-and d-d-d-d-d-died b-b-b-b-b-because of me,” I finally manage to spout out, exhausted from just _living_ and breathing.

           “Oh Ryan, I want you to listen to me, Jon did not kill himself because of you. He killed himself because of all of the fucking homophobes and horrible people that are out there in this world. What he did was selfish, for making you believe that you were the reason that he killed himself. Have you believed that for as long as he’s been dead,” Brendon asks, pulling his arms away, so that he look me dead in the eyes.

           I don’t want him to see me like this, or at all. I’m disgusting. I made Jon kill himself. If he wouldn’t have gotten together, then he would have never came out, and he would have never been disowned by his parents. He wouldn’t have felt the need to stop loving me, or even feeling any kind of attraction towards guys. I shouldn’t even be alive right now. I should be drowning myself in this very pool.

           “Ryan, are you listening me,” Brendon shakes me, and I quickly nod. “Have you believed that you have caused his death” I look at him, and then softly nod, resulting in Brendon pulling me into another tight hug. “You didn’t cause his death, the only ones who could have were his asshole parents. I don’t know what you’re thinking in that little pretty head of yours, but _nothing was your fault_. And I’m sorry that I’ve been such a dick to you since we’ve met. We can go as slow as you want. You want a first date, we can go see a concert. You want something casual? We can go to fucking Chick Fil A if you want, though I don’t think that would work out with them being against same sex relationships and all that”

           I laugh and nod softly snot running down my face, “I think a first date would be nice”

           “Good, good, I can make reservations wherever you want,” Brendon replies, and then pulls back from the tight hug to look at me.

           “You don’t need to go through all of the trouble, Bren; I’m not worth it”

           “Don’t you see though, Ryan? You are totally worth it, you deserve the best, and I want to give it to you,” Brendon smiles, and then picks up my water logged hand, conjoining his water logged hand with my mine.

           “Can we just get some Chinese food, and just eat here instead? I don’t feel like going out,” I look down at our hands, “Plus, we’re still pretty pruny”

           “Whatever you want, Smoothie Boy,” he responds with another smile, “If you want, we can get out of the pool, and maybe watch a few movies. I could make some popcorn, and heat up some warm blankets. You’re probably freezing” I nod softly, and follow along as Brendon walks up the stairs of the pool. “I’ll be right back with some towels to dry you off, alright,” he asks me, carefully, his eyes searching mine.

           “Can I—um—Come with you,” I ask him softly. I don’t trust myself alone at this point.

           “Sure, but I don’t know if you’ll like seeing the whole maid service”

           “You have a fucking maid service? You’re the only one who lives here!”

           “There’s only 3 maids, and they only work here sometimes…,” he trails off, and I glare at him. “What!?” he exclaims, throwing his hands up into the air, “I lived a somewhat privileged life”

           “Can I just live here instead,” I kid, but then see Brendon’s face light up.

           “You’re totally welcome to—I mean, we have enough guest rooms. Unless you just want to sleep in my bed—totally not pressuring you or whatever—but you can if you want to. Hell, if you want to, I can have your stuff moved in tonight, and you can just sleep here tonight, in your room—or mine—remember totally not pressuring you or whatever,” he rambles on, and I roll my eyes.

           “Come on, Ram, let’s go get some towels,” I pull him along outside of the pool room. Yeah, Ram as a nickname meaning rambler? _Totally_ describes Brendon Boyd Urie, no questions about it.

           “I have a better idea, I could have someone just get us towels,” Brendon adds, digging his feet into the tiled floor.

           “Come on lazy ass, I’m about to unprivilage you”

           “But whyyyyyy,” Brendon whines, “Let’s just stay here—Hey I have to stay here! I haven’t eaten my breakfast yet!” I sigh, and then let go of his arm.

           “Go ahead and eat”

           “I win! Ryan – 0, Brendon – 1,” he exclaims, and then runs over to his food, sitting back down on the tiled floor. “You should really try bacon,‘t’s really good,” he comments, his mouth full of food.

           I shake my head, and watch him as he eats, feeling that gaping hole completely gone. Maybe all I needed to do was eat after all, or maybe I just needed to tell him about Jon. Either way, I’m happy for the first time in a while and as I stare at Brendon’s butter covered face I don’t think it’s going to change anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's always more to the story isn't there?


	8. Boyfriends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m fine, William, I swear I am,” I sigh happily into the phone, and close my eyes when I feel Brendon stroking my hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your update! Friday's update will be the end of Memories and the start of a new volume!  
> Yay! Brendon and Ryan are so cute together! Don't you agree?

 

 

**Chapter 8: Boyfriends**

* * *

 

                “I’m fine, William, I swear I am,” I sigh happily into the phone, and close my eyes when I feel Brendon stroking my hair. After we got changed—Brendon let me wear his boxers and they are not _that_ much bigger in the crotch area—we curled up on the couch and just decided to not do anything besides just talk. I haven’t had a real day off from work in a while—the day after the blowup in the car did not count—so we’re trying to take advantage of it before I have to start serving smoothies again.

                _“Are you sure you’re alright? I can come over and we could have a sleepover. I would need to cancel my plans but I’m completely okay with it. You were like dead whe—“_

“Don’t cancel your plans, Will, I’m completely fine. Me and Brendon are just going to order some Chinese food and watch a few movies together” If William comes over I’ll have to ask him about how the weed was laced with Eurie. Then it’ll turn into this big fight so I’m not going to even mention to him over the phone. 

                _“I’m serious, Ryan, I can come over, and just cancel my plan—“_

                “Just go out, Will, you deserve it after that douchebag Gabe,” I sigh happily again, when Brendon kisses my forehead. Can I take him to work with me?

                I hear William give an exasperated sigh. _“Alright, fine, but if anything goes wrong, just call me, and I’ll be there,”_ his voice full of concern.I hadn’t meant to make William worry, or concerned for me, or to put his life on hold. The whole thing just kind of… Happened. My brain shut down. I couldn’t handle anything more. It scared the absolute shit out of me.

                “Come on, Bilvy, go have some fun, I’ve got Ryan nice and relaxed,” Brendon says, and then grabs the phone from me. I pout, and then cross my arms.

                “He’s my friend, Bren. Let me talk to him,” I whine, and roll over on my stomach on top of Brendon. I look up at Brendon, and expect for a response, but he only continues talking to William. “Come on, get off the phone, the movie is about to start,” I whine again, and no response from Brendon.

                “Yes, William, I understand that if I hurt Ryan then you will hurt me,” Brendon gives an exasperated sigh. Good old Will, always trying to scare off people before I get the chance to be with them. “Alright, alright, William,” I slide my hands along Brendon’s bare sides, “Ryan—No, I don’t think that outfit will look good together,” he squeaks out, glaring down at me.

                I smirk at him, and then lick down his chest, gaining a loud moan from Brendon, while he’s in the middle of a sentence. “You should get off the phone, Legs,” I whisper softly.

                “Sorry, William,” I nipple down his chest, “Fuck—I’ll talk to you later,” Brendon squeaks shakily, his toes already curling. I reach up, rubbing our crotches together, and grab my cell phone, hanging up on William mid-sentence.

                “Good, Brendon,” I coo, feeling very dominate.

                “That was very rude, Smoothie Boy,” Brendon gasps out, as my hands start to undo his button.

                “It’s always a good thing to keep them wanting more,” I smirk, and then climb off of him, and saunter off into the kitchen, knowing full well that he’s probably getting blue ball. I like this sudden control, the fact that I can take control of Brendon. He’s always been the one who seems to take control of me so knowing that I can bend him to my will makes me feel great. He should have someone giving him the time of his life not just giving it away to someone else.

                And—Didn’t I want to stop having sex? I wanted to know him for longer, and get to know him. Sure, I know what he has told me. And he knows about Jon… Isn’t there more to a relationship beside that? Me and Jon knew each other for years before we got together, and even then, when he kissed me in my bedroom, we still waited a few days after that. We wanted to make sure that we could get back into the swing of things. Sure enough, we did. Quite well.

                “You’re lucky you’re cute,” Brendon announces from behind me, “And that I’m pretty good at finishing myself” I shrug, and then turn around to face him.

                “I wanted some popcorn for the movie. I needed something to get through your massive collection of Disney movies,” Brendon glares, “Well, something besides special brownies and beer”

                “I don’t really drink, or smoke,” Brendon shrugs, and then walks over to a cabinet, rooting through it, “I was a really sheltered kid when I was younger, which was why my parents were shocked when I turned out to be gay. I came out when I was,” he pauses, “around 17 I think. Can’t be sure though, a lot of shit was going on around that time” He pokes his head back out, with a pack of popcorn.

                “Well, since we’re not currently ripping our clothes off each other, could you tell me what was going on? I mean you totally don’t have to tell m—“

                Brendon quickly interrupts, “It’s alright, I don’t mind telling you,” he walks behind me, and opens the microwave door. “You weren’t the only one who lost someone who was really special to you, that’s all”. He places the bright popcorn pack into the microwave, and then closes the door, pressing the popcorn button. “Because of how sheltered I was I didn’t have many friends,” he leans up against the counter, his eyes drilling into mine. “By how you talk about Jon, she was kind of like Jon”

                I quickly interrupt, “You had a Jon,” I raise my eyebrows, and Brendon chuckles, casting his eyes to the ground, and then looks back up at me.

                “Yes, Ryan, I had a Jon, but she was female, and we didn’t exactly get physical like you and Jon did. She was how I figured out that I wasn’t straight. We had kissed after a movie–I think it was Shrek—something stupid and childish—and I didn’t,” he pauses, “get those sparks I got when I kissed you,” he grins, and I can’t help but blush. The microwave starts to beep at the most inconvenient time. I’m turning into a teenage girl just talking about how I make him feel.

                “I’ll—go get the movie ready,” I stammer out, and Brendon nods, looking at me like I have five heads. I quickly run out of the kitchen, and almost slip on the hardwood floors that he seems to be very fond of in this house. “Get ahold of yourself, Ryan. You’re blushing like a school girl,” I say state to myself, as I walk into Brendon’s huge living room and the high ceilings. His house is everything I imagined he wouldn’t have in his house. I thought that his house would have rainbow colored handprints all over the walls and random splashes of paints. It doesn’t seem like his house at all. My eyes trail over to the TV—it seems more like a movie theater sized theater—and the complex bookshelf of movies and video game systems.

                “I don’t play a lot of videos games anymore—too busy—we should play sometime though” Brendon announces, as I jump a foot into the air.

                “Brendon! You can’t fucking scare me like that! I didn’t hear you”

                “I don’t make a lot of noise,” he shrugs his shoulders, and then skips over to the purple microfiber loveseat, placing the bowl of popcorn and a cold bottle of Budweiser on the table in front of it. He plops down into the couch, spreading out, and pats the space next to me.

                “I thought you didn’t drink,” I inquire, and raise my eyebrow.

                “William brought some over earlier when he brought you the bacon”

                “I swear, he thinks of everything”

                “I’m surprised that he didn’t drop off condoms and lube just in case”

                “One day William brought a bag to Smoothie Hut during our business hours—he came in late. He said that he had to slip away from someone’s bed without them noticing. We talk for a few minutes and he asks me if I can store some ‘stuff’ for him he’ll give me some for free. I agree because I think its weed. He brings the bag in—it’s from fucking Adult Superstore and he gave me rainbow colored lube and cherry flavored condoms. Pete almost exploded”

                “Gabe really missed out on William didn’t he?”

                My fists clench up, “If I see Gabe I’m going to make him wish he was a girl”

                “Don’t get worked up, Ry,” he lifts up his arms, “C’mere, Aladdin is starting, and I want to cuddle,” he whines. I roll my eyes, but give into him, walking over to him, standing there, sticking my tongue out at him. “Fine, if you want to do this the hard way, we’ll do it the hard way,” he grunts, “Don’t know why I chose such a stubborn boyfriend.”

                “Wait, are we boyfriends?” I quickly interrupt him, and then wish I hadn’t. Brendon blinks.

                “Do you want to be, Ryan? I kind of assumed that we were, because I don’t do fuck buddies. I fall way too fast to be just friends with benefits,” he looks at me, his eyes searching for any expression in my face. I give him a big goofy smile.

                “Of course I’ll be your boyfriend, Brenny Boo,” I beam, “Now move on so that I can watch Aladdin” Brendon lights up, and I wish that I could take a picture of that face. His face right now. He looks like a child who just came downstairs after all of the Christmas presents are under the tree and he found his favorite present under the tree. Me.

                He quickly lays down, and presses his back up against the loveseat, to make room for me. I slide in next to him, feeling his arms around me, nice and tight. I don’t care about being the little spoon right now. Or the fact that his erection is poking me in the ass right now. Or even that we’re watching Aladdin right now. I only care about the fact that I couldn’t be happier that Brendon Boyd Urie, bonafide Beautiful Creature, Sex God is my boyfriend.  


	9. Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you think about it, we’re like Aladinn and Jasmine,” Brendon announces as the end credits to Aladdin scroll on the flat screen TV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to keep you on a cliffhanger or it wouldn't be a fanfiction

 

**Chapter 9: Heaven**

* * *

                “If you think about it, we’re like Aladinn and Jasmine,” Brendon announces as the end credits to Aladdin scroll on the flat screen TV.

                “How so,” I ask him, feeling a nice buzz from the Budweiser.

                “If you think about it, Jasmine and Aladdin come from two totally different families—I mean—You know what never mind,” Brendon huffs, and wraps his arms tighter around my waist. I let out a small burp, and then giggle.

                “I think you burped me, Brenny,” I roll around in his arms, and then give him a peck, savoring the flavor of the beer and the taste of his lips mixing together. They taste like heaven together.

                “William was totally right. You are such a lightweight. You’re going to be totally out of it for the rest of the night,” Brendon blows out a puff of air, but then gives me a small peck on the lips. This is good. Kissing is good. But then Brendon pulls away, and I whine, then pout. “Don’t give me that look. We were going to have Chinese food, and it’s already,” he pauses to pull his dark red iPhone out of his back pocket and then looks down at it, “5pm. It’s going to take an hour to get here. So we should probably order now” I sit up suddenly, feeling the urge to puke suddenly overwhelming me.

                “Bathroom,” I manage to get up, and run into the nearest bathroom, not making it as I puke a green toxic substance onto the beautiful kitchen floor.

                “Shit—shit—shit, are you alright, Ryan,” I hear Brendon ask, his voice full of worry. I try to respond with a witty comment, but the only thing my mouth spills out is more vomit. “I—I’ll call William, he’ll know what to do” I slowly shake my head no, more vomit spilling out onto the floor. “We should get you to the hospital, I know hangovers, and this is not a hangover, I’m wor—“

                “I’m fine, Brenn—“ I don’t finish the sentence, because of a sudden, I’m falling, and my head is spinning. “Fine,” I whisper, and then everything goes black.


End file.
